The Hunger Games Peeta's View
by maddizoe
Summary: Peeta is a boy from District 12 in Panem. But when he gets reaped to take part in The 74th Annual Hunger Games his whole life changes.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi, I am attempting to write The Hunger Games in Peeta's view. If all goes well I will continue :)_

I wake up with a jolt, it's that day again. My brothers are already up, their beds are empty. We share a room; one room for us, one room for our parents. My father is a baker, and my mother helps him run it. We have a little bit more money than other people in District 12 because we are merchants, but we are still poor. Everyone in District 12 is.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and wipe the sleep from my eyes. It's light out. My brothers will be downstairs helping Dad out in the bakery. I don't usually help on Reaping Day because Clayden is too old and Rye is 18 now so this year is his last year. They feel sorry for me as I am the youngest, and my father and I are quite close. My mother on the other hand, we do not get on. She can be quite strict, and I don't think she really wanted me. I know she wanted a daughter, but I think I was meant to be the girl.

I slip into some comfortable clothes, and go downstairs. There are some bags of flour left by the back door still, so I lift one up onto my shoulder and start into the shop.

'Ah, Peeta, what are you doing up?' asks my Dad. He's at the counter, kneading dough, covered in flour. He turns to me and wipes his hands on his apron, smearing it with more flour.

'I was done with sleeping, thought you could use an extra hand,' I smile. He takes the bag of flour from my shoulder and puts it down on the table in the middle of the room. He turns back to me and places his hands on my shoulders.

'Son, kindness doesn't always get you everywhere, be a bit selfish sometimes. Now go back upstairs, get some rest and get ready,' he turns me around and pushes me towards the door. Reluctantly I go as it _is_ getting close to 1; I need to be ready and waiting in the square soon.

I stand in the doorway of my room, staring at my bed. Today, I do wish I could just roll up and hide in it all day. I am 16, so my name has been entered 5 times, still not as many as some people. Most of the people in the Seam would have gone for tesserae, meaning their names will have been entered many more times. I probably won't get chosen because of this, but I still can't help feeling scared.

I notice my mother has been in since I went downstairs, as she has left an outfit on each of our beds. Just plain black trousers and a plain white shirt; we need to look smart in case our name gets called, and then the whole of Panem will see us. I take a little bit of the gel from the wash room, which is saved for special occasions, and run it through my hair, using the little mirror to try and make it look nice. I settle for a neat quiff, slicked back.

'It's not going to make you look any less scared,' I hear Rye call from the bedroom. He's right, even as I look at myself I can see that I look petrified. I walk into the bedroom and see him. He's a lot taller than me, but he has the same blonde hair and blue eyes.

'Your name is in there more times, so you should be more scared,'

'Yes, but I only have to get through this year, and then it's over for me. You have two more years after this one.' He gives me a playful punch on the arm and then walks out. Your name goes in an extra time every year, so he's got 7 entries. I envy the fact that this is his last year, I can't stand the feeling I get when they pull a name from the boys bowl, hoping that it won't be mine.

The clock chimes on the wall. It's time to leave.

I walk as a man condemned towards the square. We all do. Shuffling along as if our legs refuse to move. It's not a long walk for me though, as I live very close. At the signing in desk they take a prick of blood from our fingers to identify us. Anyone who is missing will get tracked down; everyone has to attend unless they are dying.

Then we are arranged in the square as usual, older ones at the front, younger ones at the back, everyone else around the outside. Some people don't fit and have to stand outside the square, but are still forced to watch on big screens. Some people around the edge have no family to worry about, but instead take bets or place them themselves. I can't help but thinking how sick these people are, it's the same as betting on people's lives, like I am sure they probably do during the games in the Capitol.

On the stage, there are three chairs, two of them are filled; The Mayor of District 12 sits in one and Effie Trinket, the escort for District 12, straight from the Capitol, sits in the other. You can tell Effie is from the Capitol straight away due to her bright pink hair and hideous spring green suit. The third seat remains empty as The Mayor steps forward to the podium to speak.

He tells the same story every year, the history of Panem. How we rose out of the ashes of North America. About the Dark Days, the uprisings. About how they destroyed District 13, how the Treaty of the Treason came about, and then they invented the Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games are simple, every year, as punishment for the uprisings, one girl and one boy between the ages of 12 and 18 are chosen from each district to fight to the death until one person remains, who will be crowned the victor and be showered with riches from the capitol. We are supposed to treat it as a festivity, a sporting event.

Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. It doesn't take very long. We've had two victors, in the past 73 years. As if on cue, Haymitch Abernathy stumbles on to the stage. Our only living victor. He sits down into the third chair. He's drunk, as usual. He hugs Effie, much to her disdain, and she only just manages to fight him off.

The Mayor does not look best pleased at this humiliating show, since all this is being televised across the whole of Panem, live, so it won't get missed. He moves on quickly, introducing Effie Trinket to do the reaping.

'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!' This phrase is very familiar, I give a slight groan. The Hunger Games are not a happy occasion. She continues on about how honoured she is to be here, but I think she's just obligated to say this, no one is honoured to be in District 12.

And then it's time to start. Another familiar phrase; 'Ladies first!' She goes to the bowl with all the girls names in it and pulls one out. My mind goes to one girl; a girl who I have loved ever since I was five. She is from the Seam and so she probably has numerous entries. The odds are not in her favour. Effie pulls out the name and announces it. It's not her.

'Prim!' we hear the scream from the crowd, somewhere to my right. I turn to look as the young girl whose name was called walks towards the stage. The girl who shouted runs out into the aisle left in the middle.

It's her. Her sister has been chosen. Primrose Everdeen. And then I hear something that makes my stomach turn.

'I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute.'


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you for the favourites and follows so far... :)_**

I stare at the girl standing on the stage in front of me, my heart sinking. Katniss Everdeen. She has just volunteered at the reaping for her 12 year old sister, a very noble thing to do, and very Katniss. However, when you're from District 12 being reaped is like a death sentence, just the Capitol won't just kill you themselves. But this girl, Katniss, I have liked her for a long time, since we were children and she sang in school, every bird outside the window stopped to listen, and so did I. And now I'd never get the chance to tell her how I felt because she was going to The Hunger Games, and probably won't come back. Hardly anyone from District 12 ever does. We've had two victors in 73 years.

Effie wants a round of applause for our first volunteer. For what? For volunteering to go and die for our District? I will not applaud, I want to run and hold her and tell her it'll be OK, I wish I could take _her _place. But no-one applauds. And then all at once we know what to do instead. Everyone places their three middle fingers to their mouth and raises them to her, a silent salute from District 12, used to say goodbye. I have to hold back a tear, as it feels like I'm letting this girl go forever.

Haymitch, walks over to Katniss and Effie and starts rambling on about something, I only notice the word 'Spunk', and then he falls off the stage. He's a drunken mess, I can't blame him really, having been through the games, having to then watch all his tributes die, and now the focus is back on him today. It must be a lot to take.

Effie goes over to the boys bowl and picks out a name. I'm still watching Katniss, I can tell she's upset but she doesn't show it. She doesn't want to seem weak. Then I hear it.

'Peeta Mellark'

That's my name. Effie just said my name. All fear for Katniss turns into fear for myself as people around me turn to face me, some nudging me forward towards the stage. When I finally get my legs to work I start walking towards the stage. Towards Effie. Towards Katniss.

Yes, towards Katniss. Maybe this is a good thing, forcing us together, and I will get to tell her how I feel. We might have to die, but we don't have to kill each other, and maybe she will love me too. And just for the next few weeks, we will have each other, and I will die happy.

But as I walk up the steps to where they are standing I see Katniss watching me, her eyes do not seem friendly, or sympathetic, they almost seem hateful. But that could be because of the situation rather than towards me.

Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no-one steps forward. Of course Clayden can't, and family protection only goes so far.

After this The Mayor has his usual speech, reading the Treaty of the Treason. I stare out at the crowd, I spot my brothers, then my Mother, and my Father. I remember the time my father pointed out Katniss to me that day before school. We have always been quite close, and now I'm never going to see him again.

The Mayor finishes the speech and motions for me and Katniss to shake hands. I've never been this close to her before, I can feel my heart racing, my palms getting a bit sweaty, I hope she doesn't notice. As I take her hand I give it a reassuring squeeze, although I'm not sure if it will come across like that. Her skin is soft and smooth. I can see a few scratches, it's not unknown that she goes hunting in the woods, so she must get a few bumps out there, but still, so soft.

Then the anthem plays. Again, we have to stand there in front of this crowd. My time spent on stage is far too long for my liking, in the eyes of everyone, and not just in this District. It will be televised, and it's mandatory to watch. I guess we're supposed to stand there and look proud, but I'm sure I just look sullen and miserable. Well I am. I'm probably going to die.

As soon as the anthem finishes the peacekeepers take us into the Justice Building. As the doors shut behind me, I realise this is it. I am trapped. Property of the Capitol for the rest of my life, however long that may be. Just another piece in their games.

I am shut in a room on my own, to wait for my family to come and say goodbye. I take the time to look around the room; plush velvet on the chairs, on a couch, soft carpets. The window looks out onto the square, everyone is leaving, going home, to celebrate that they have gone another year without being chosen.

I will have an hour to say goodbye to my friends and family, I know I must not get upset because there will be cameras at the train station. It shouldn't be too difficult, I don't really have much to stay for, the only person I believe will miss me when I'm gone is my father, his goodbye will upset me the most.

After a few minutes the door opens and my Mom, Dad and two brothers walk slowly in. Clayden and Rye survey me for a second and then each in turn embraces me quickly. My mother sits in the corner, staying quiet as my father sits on the couch and urges me to sit next to him.

'You'll be ok Peeta, you're strong,' I nod, I know I have no chance, and surely so does he, but neither of us want to say it.

'Maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner,' my Mother speaks up suddenly. We both look over to her, surely she can't think I will win. I see the look in her eye, she's not looking at me though, she's staring at the ground, and I realise what she means. 'She's a survivor that one.'

Katniss. Yes, maybe Katniss can win. But right now I understand how my Mother has already let me go. My family has no faith in me, I can't blame them, other districts are trained for this. I see Dad look at Mom as if to tell her off. She stands up, shuffling her feet a little, then walks over to me. She plants a quick peck on my forehead and looks straight into my eyes. I don't think I've been this close to her since I was a baby; she's not known for being very motherly.

'Goodbye.' And then she turns and leaves the room. Clayden follows quickly, but Rye stops in the door.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers, and then turns and leaves quickly after the others. I don't blame him for not volunteering; I wouldn't have done it for him.

I turn and look my father straight in the eyes, fear and sadness threatening to overcome me.

'What am I going to do Dad?' I ask, a single tear falling down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, I don't want to cry, I don't want to seem weak.

He takes me firmly by the shoulders, looking back at me. He's the only one who knows how I feel about Katniss, and now I see a knowing look in his eyes. 'Do what you have to do.'

I know what he means, and he doesn't mean for me to win, he means to protect Katniss. He was once in love with her mother, which is why he pointed her out to me.

'You see that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner...' He said. I stared at the little girl for a little while. She was very pretty. But I didn't understand why someone would choose a coal miner over my father. 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'

I nod at my father. He takes me swiftly in his arms into a tight embrace. I must admit even though we get along, we have never really hugged before. The sudden affection causes more tears to form in my eyes and I fight to hold them back, but some of them make their way out, and I spend the rest of our time sobbing into my father's chest.

A peacekeeper comes to usher him out and I wipe my eyes quickly. That's it. Now I will never see my family again.

Next in is a childhood friend. Delly Cartwright. She hugs me and gives me a peck on the cheek, and then we just sit there in silence until her time is up too.

'Good luck Peeta,' she smiles sweetly and then leaves.

The next person in is a shock. Gale. Gale is Katniss' friend. They go hunting together. We have never spoken to each other before in our lives, so I know he's not here for me.

'Protect her.' He says sternly. He stands by the door as if ready to leave at any moment.

'Of course I will.' I nod. He nods back.

'She has to win.'

'I know.' We both have the same idea; I help her to win. Somehow I don't think he knows my full reasons for it though. He's tall and dark and handsome and I'm sure she'd choose him in a heartbeat. All the girls at school talk about Gale, a lot of guys talk about Katniss. In theory, they are perfect for each other.

He offers out his hand for a handshake and I take it. Firm, strong, a little too strong, like he's trying to hurt me before I get anywhere. We both give each other a final nod and then he leaves before his time is up.

No one else comes to visit me and I just sit on my own, in the velvet room, trying to collect my thoughts and keep myself calm until I get to the train and can hopefully hide in my own private room.

Finally the Peacekeepers come and escort me to the car. This is it. This is where it all begins for certain.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry it's taken me a while to get this up chapter up. I've been really busy. But here it is!**_

The car journey from the Justice Building to the train station isn't a long one, but it feels like forever sat next to Effie nattering on, and Katniss just the other side of her. I look out of the window at all of the cameras following us. I know it's obvious that I have been crying. I'm not sure whether or not I should be hiding it, I choose not to because after all, I could die, and what child in his right mind would not be afraid of death.

I look to Katniss. She looks almost bored. This makes me smile slightly because maybe it will look bad on the Capitol if The Games have no effect.

We finally arrive at the station and are completely surrounded by cameras and reporters. The train looks alien to me. Shiny and silver plated. Effie makes us stand in the door of the train waving at all the cameras. She keeps telling us to smile. This feels humiliating, making it seem even more of a festive event.

Eventually, we are let onto the train. If I thought the outside of the train was nice, then the inside is grand in comparison. The train starts moving almost as soon as the doors close. I'm shocked at the speed at which is takes off. No-one in District 12 will ever go on a train unless it is to go into The Hunger Games, or to go on the Victory Tour after the Games. And the only other trains we have are to the Capitol for the coal from the mines, but they are a lot slower than this.

I have learnt a lot about the mines from school, but I would never have learnt about them first hand because of the bakery. I also know that Katniss's father died in a mining accident, although I wouldn't bring this up in a conversation.

I am shown to my own private chamber; a bedroom, a dressing area and a private bathroom, all to myself. I take the time to look around the room before I am called for supper. I look through the drawers, which are filled with numerous outfits for me to choose from. I pick out a pair of navy blue trousers and a cream shirt. The shirt is a silky material that feels soft on my skin. I decide to take a quick shower, in the lovely hot water. We don't normally have hot water at home, so it is great to feel the warmth trickling over me instead of freezing cold droplets.

After my shower, I change, and then Effie is calling me to the dining cart. I make my way down the narrow corridors and see that I am the first one here. I start pacing in the cart, fiddling with my fingers, trying to work out a plan, so that I can make sure everything turns out right in the arena. I'll have to ask our mentor for help.

I am just reaching this conclusion when Haymitch strolls through the cart and stops to stare at me. I stare back. He's still drunk, more so I think.

'I'm going for a nap,' he slurs, and then staggers across to the door and exits.

It is no good asking Haymitch to help me help Katniss because he probably doesn't even know what is going on right now. He won't be sober enough to realise that he has to help us.

Unable to think of another plan, I sit at the table and twiddle my thumbs some more. The table has already been set out, with what looks like very fragile plates, and posh cutlery. My hand brushes the forks; silverware, we would never be able to afford to eat like this at home.

After another few minutes Effie returns with Katniss.

'Where's Haymitch?' Effie asks.

'Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap' this could have been only 10 minutes ago, but he could still be anywhere by now.

'Well, it's been an exhausting day,' She says. I think we are all glad that Haymitch is absent from dinner after his antics at the reaping.

The supper is served in several courses. Rich food; thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and chocolate cake. We are constantly being told by Effie to save room for the next course to come, but I don't think me or Katniss are paying much attention. This is more food than we would ever get in District 12. Most of the food that we eat at the bakery is stale and unsellable.

'At least you two have decent manners, the pair from last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion.'

We are just finishing the main course. I look up at Katniss. We are both eating with a knife and fork. I struggle to remember the tributes from last year, I try not to familiarise myself with the games too much, but I daresay that manners were the last things on their minds. Katniss then continues to finish her meal with her fingers, making sure to exaggerate to irritate Effie more. I can tell that she doesn't want to attempt to please the Capitol, I should follow her lead, but the chocolate cake looks too messy. When she is finished she wipes her fingers on the tablecloth and smiles over to Effie. I see Effie's lips purse tightly together; Katniss's trick has worked.

We finish our meals, and I'm feeling a bit queasy. I am not used to the richness or the quantity. But it can't hurt to build ourselves up before the arena where we probably won't eat much. I just have to keep the food down and I'll be fine.

We cross to another compartment where we are forced to watch a recap of the reapings from each district. I try not to pay any attention. The more I know about them the more difficult it will be to kill them. If I have to I will kill them, to protect her. But one does catch my eye. A 12 year old girl is reaped from District 11, quite a small, quiet girl. I don't catch her name, but she does remind me of Katniss's sister. I look to her, and she seems fixed on the screen, I can only imagine what she is thinking. Of course, no-one comes forward to volunteer for the little girl.

Then lastly they show our reapings. Katniss volunteering, me being called. It's all very dramatic; the part where she volunteers. There was silence across the square, and nobody really knew what to do because District 12 has never had a volunteer before. They play the anthem and then the programme ends. Once more there is silence in the room for a few moments.

Effie speaks up to break the silence, although it frustrates me that she is only worried about her appearance. 'Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour.'

To my surprise, and I'm sure to everyone else's too, I let out a laugh. I think I'm partly amused and partly angry. 'He was drunk. He's drunk every year.'

'Every day,' Katniss adds. I smile because I know we are on the same track.

'Yes, how odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and death!'

Haymitch seems to have a way of making an entrance, because just as Effie finishes he stumbles in. 'I miss supper?' he seems to be slurring more than earlier. And then he vomits all over the floor, and collapses into it.

'So laugh away!' Says Effie Trinket. And then she struts off, taking care not to step in any sick.

I look at the man laying on the floor and realise that me and Katniss are pretty much on our own in the arena; we won't be receiving any help. We don't stand a chance.


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of the alcohol and vomit infused together makes me feel queasy. I glance at Katniss quickly as she glances back. We each take an arm and help Haymitch to his feet.

'I tripped? Smells bad,' Haymitch says as he smears his face with more sick.

'Let's get you back to your room,' I say. 'Clean you up a bit.'

It's tricky dragging Haymitch across the floor to his room. The train is very nicely decorated and I feel like we're making a large mess. We decide to pull him into the bath tub; as this is cleaner than laying him on the nice clean bed, and turn on the shower.

'It's OK,' I say as I notice Katniss looking sicker than I feel. 'I'll take it from here.' I feel sorry for Haymitch; he's suffered for many more years than we have, and this has clearly taken its toll. If by some chance I win and end up coming home, I hope I do not end up this.

'All right. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you.'

'No. I don't want them.' I say sternly. It is their job to take care of us and I know Katniss means well, but Haymitch is from our district and we're already a laughing stock. I don't want him to lose the little pride he has left.

I watch as Katniss leaves and then I take the shower in my hand and hold it over Haymitch, spraying him down, washing the bile from his clothes. I unbutton his shirt, still spraying the water over his chest, as the sick has soaked through his clothes. I take off all his clothes apart from his underwear, taking care to keep spraying, as he has somehow made a mess of himself, literally everywhere. He stirs slightly and looks up at me through those tired eyes, trying to make sense of the scene.

I leave his clothes in the bathtub and lead him to the bed. He makes a bit of an effort to walk, but I am still almost dragging him.

'I know you won't remember this in the morning Haymitch, but you need to sort yourself out. You're our link to survival, and I want Katniss to survive.' I say, close to his face, making sure he hears me.

'She will, boy. Now get out of my room.'

I quickly leave to my room. I perch myself on the bed and look around. We will be in the Capitol tomorrow. I know I need to get some sleep, but I do not feel tired. I feel nervous, and overwhelmed. I undress and climb into bed in just my underwear. Staring at the ceiling I start wondering about what this year's arena will be like. I need to stay alive long enough to help Katniss so I need somewhere to help that happen. I remember a year there was a desert, most people died of thirst, and there wasn't really anywhere to hide.

I must have drifted off at some point because I awake to the sound of Effie Trinket knocking on my door and calling 'Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!' I climb out of bed and put on a new pair of trousers and another cream shirt. After cleaning off Haymitch last night I don't fancy wearing anything that's been near him.

I go quickly to the dining cart. I am surprised to see Haymitch is already there, looking tired and still a bit clueless. I take a seat opposite him at the table. A Capitol attendant brings me a cup of warm brown liquid which I immediately recognise as Hot Chocolate.

I look down at the drink and smile as I remember drinking it at home with my father. When we had had a particularly good day in the bakery, he would pop out and bring back some of the hot chocolate powder, and we'd sit around the fire in the evening, all together drinking. It was one of the few times we would all sit as a family; normally I would just spend time with my father.

I take some bread from the table a dip it into the Hot Chocolate. Slowly I take a bite. I feel the warmth fill my mouth, and I'm sure I let out a sound of enjoyment. Next thing I know I hear Haymitch laughing. I look up and realise I've completely lost myself in eating the roll, and was a little too enthusiastic.

Just at that moment, Katniss enters.

'Sit down! Sit down!' beckons Haymitch. Katniss takes a seat and we are instantly served with copious amounts of food. They set more rolls on the table, and glasses of Orange juice, cups of coffee, and more Hot Chocolate. Katniss looks at the drinks in turn, trying to work out what each one is. She stops on the chocolate drink and looks at it, confused. I am not sure if she has ever seen it before.

'They call it Hot Chocolate,' I say. 'It's good.' I watch as she takes a sip. She seems to like it as she gulps the rest of the drink straight down before starting on anything else.

I start eating some of my food; I nibble on a few eggs, and bits of ham and fruit. I'm not really that hungry this morning. Haymitch doesn't touch much of his food either, instead he just drinks, what smells like more liquor. I scowl to myself, he's not even trying.

'So you're supposed to give us advice,' Katniss says to Haymitch.

'Here's some advice. Stay alive,' says Haymitch, and then he bursts out laughing. Me and Katniss share a look, then she quickly looks away. I feel the anger building up inside me.

'That's very funny,' I say. Suddenly I knock the glass out of Haymitch's hand. This shocks me slightly, but I remain stern. The glass shatters, and the liquid leaks out all over the floor. 'Only not to us.'

It takes a second for him to think, but then I feel the blow on my jaw. Haymitch punches me, and I am knocked to the floor. When I look up Katniss is holding a knife, dug into the table, very close to Haymitch's hand. He sits back and takes a good look at us.

'Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?' He asks.

I stand up and take some ice from the fruit tureen. I lift it towards my face.

'No,' says Haymitch. 'Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena.'

Is he trying to get me into trouble before we even get there? Does he dislike me this much? 'That's against the rules.'

'Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better,' says Haymitch. He turns to Katniss and gets her to demonstrate more of her skills with a knife. She takes the knife and throws it across the room, lodging it in the wall opposite.

'Stand over here. Both of you.' We stand in the middle of the car as Haymitch circles us, judging us, poking us, examining us. 'Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough.'

Every year the best looking tributes with the best stylists always get the most sponsors. So it would be good for us if we managed to look good.

'All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say.'

It's not the best deal I've ever heard, but it's probably the best we're going to get from Haymitch. Plus it's better than last night when he wasn't even conscious.

We reluctantly agree, and Katniss starts asking about the arena, but Haymitch stops her short.

'In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist,' says Haymitch. Katniss goes to protest but he stops her, then takes the spirits from the table and leaves the car.

As the door shuts, a sudden darkness seems to hit us. There are some lights inside, but outside is pitch black. This must be the tunnel leading up to the Capitol. The tunnel runs through the mountains which act as a barrier between the Capitol and the districts.

Me and Katniss stand in silence as we travel through the tunnel. It seems never ending. I want to talk to her and tell her I will protect her, but somehow I feel it will work better if I do it without her knowing. She's so stubborn, in a good way, she would reject any help that I offered. Plus, I don't think she wants any allies, she's not usually the emotional type, so forming an attachment with someone would not be in her best interests.

The train finally starts slowing, and then light. We run to window to see the Capitol. We've only ever seen it on television, and most people will never see it for real, so despite the circumstances, it does feel a bit like an honour. It seems grander than what we have been shown. Everything is so colourful, and shiny, and seems to glisten. The people look so odd in their strange clothing, with brightly coloured hair and absurd make-up.

People begin pointing; a train from a district has arrived, a train with tributes on it. Katniss walks away from the window, I know how she feels; I want to run and hide. These people put on a massive show so that they can enjoy the final few weeks of our lives. But I know I have to be likable to these people, I have to make them believe I can win so that I will get good sponsors.

I notice Katniss staring at me, but I just shrug. 'Who knows? One of them may be rich,' I say.

I stare out of the window smiling and waving. I'm not sure what Katniss must think of me right now, but I am hoping that this will help her too. I can lose part of my dignity, looking like I want to be here, just to save her.


	5. Chapter 5

I lay on a bed in the middle of a room. Three women loom over me, all muttering to each other.

'Hello Peeta, we are your prep team,' one of them says to me, she looks quite young, bright blue hair that falls in curls to her shoulders, and blue stars painted around her eyes. 'I'm Una, this is Mizzy, and Jaymere.' Mizzy is quite short, a bit plump, looks around 40 years old, with short yellow hair, and several piercings on her face. Jaymere is tall, has green hair, green eyelashes dotted with feathers, and tinted pink skin. They certainly look like Capitol citizens, but they seem nice.

They start fussing around me, cutting my hair, cleaning my fingernails and toenails, and then suddenly I feel Mizzy with one hand on my forehead and the other hand placing something around my eyebrows.

I yell out in pain as she rips the strip of something off my face, taking half my eyebrow with it.

'The boys are always louder at that part, but you better get used to it, we've got a lot more hair to take off yet,' she gives me a wink and nods towards my crotch. Oh god, I think to myself, I don't want them even looking down there.

They start stripping me of my hair, arms, armpits, chest, stomach, legs, and then they lift up the little blanket that was covering my dignity and start stripping the hair there as well. I resist the urge to shout every time they rip a strip off.

Eventually they are finished with that and they start washing my whole body down with some horrible gritty wash, which feels like now I have less skin. Then they take a big bottle of lotion and spread it all over me, this feels soothing and tingly.

'Nearly done now, please stand up and we can style your hair,' Jaymere is ushering me up off the bed, and now I am standing in the middle of the room, completely naked. I cover my intimate parts with both hands and watch as they circle me staring at my face. I feel a rush of cold water go over my head and face, and my instant reaction is to lift my hands to wipe the water from my eyes. Then I remember I am naked, and I have just uncovered myself, so my hands quickly return to their place.

I feel one of the ladies massaging something into my head and then hot air.

'Portia will see you now.' I don't see who says this, they all sound quite alike with that high capitol pitch, and they all exit by a door behind me. I am left alone in this room, naked. I look around and notice my robe on a hook on the wall. I quickly rush over and grab it and wrap it around me just as the next person is walking in the room.

This must be Portia. She is a bit taller than me, with golden hair and dark skin. She looks normal compared to the stylists, but her clothes would give her away. A long black dress, that when she moves, seems to catch the light slightly and glitter, with stars up the straps and a large bow on the back. She circles me three times, looking me up and down, all over.

'Well my prep team certainly did well with you,' she says. 'I'm Portia, and you must be Peeta.' I nod, staring back at her. 'I'm sorry we had to meet like this.' She seems to mean this, which is nice, not like the stylists who seemed blunt and just did their job without feelings. I look down at the floor; she is still staring at me and I don't really know where else to look.

Portia takes my hand and leads me into another room, a sitting room, and points for me to sit down. There's a large window through which I can see onto the Capitol streets. Colours everywhere, feathers, glitter, piercings, and more. The sofa is a plush red sofa and very comfortable. I sink into it slightly and watch as Portia takes a seat opposite me.

She presses a button on the side of a table and a whole opens, and then some platters of food rise up out of the whole. A feast; soft, warm rolls, chicken and orange in a creamy sauce, with rice and peas and onions, and for dessert, a honey coloured pudding. I stare wide-eyed at the food. I had eaten loads on the train, but I wasn't really certain it would continue once I was in the Capitol. We begin to eat the food, I notice I am eating rather fast, and my personal plate is piled much higher than hers. I make the effort to slow down, so I don't make myself feel sick again.

Portia finishes her plate and looks up at me, wiping the sauce from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. I haven't finished yet but I put my plate and cutlery down and look back up at her.

'We have your outfit for the opening ceremony to discuss. Cinna, who is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Katniss, has this great idea to dress you in complementary costumes. It will reflect your district of course.' She seems very enthusiastic about this, and speaks of Cinna with fondness.

The opening ceremony is just a fancy parade through the Capitol and ending in the Square by the training centre. The tributes have to wear costumes that portray their district. District Twelve is the mining district, so we are normally dressed as miners, in skimpy outfits, although I remember a year when our tributes were completely nude and painted in black 'coal' dust.

'So we're wearing coal miners' outfits,' I say. I can't really expect much, we are the lowest valued district.

'No, no. Cinna wanted something a bit different. The coal miner thing is done a lot. He said we need to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable.' The naked idea pops into my head and I start to blush. 'We want to focus on the coal, rather than the mining. What do you do with coal? You burn it,' she continues, a bit too enthusiastically. I'm thinking now they are going to burn me and Katniss. Are they extremists who oppose to the games and would rather we die before entering the arena?

'How do you feel about fire?'

A few hours later, I'm standing next to Katniss, we're in matching black unitards that cover our entire bodies and leather boots. But the piece that really sets this costume apart from the rest is the orange, yellow and red fluttering cape. We both wear matching head dresses, designed to take the match the cape. The plan is that just before the chariot starts rolling, Cinna will set the capes on fire, but it's only a synthetic flame, so it won't burn, and we'll be safe. I feel really uneasy about this situation, having got a bit too close to the oven in the bakery a few times, I know how hot fire can burn.

We're taken down to the bottom level of the Remake Centre, ready to make our big entrance. We are fussed into the chariot where Cinna and Portia arrange us, and our outfits, smiling and giggling to each other like school children.

'What do you think?' Katniss whispers to me. 'About the fire?'

'I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine,' I say through gritted teeth.

'Deal,' she says. 'I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle.'

'Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?'

'With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame.'

We both laugh. It seems to release some of the tension between us, but I still feel like Katniss isn't completely comfortable in my presence.

Then we hear the opening music, being blasted across the whole of the Capitol. The doors slide open, and District One's chariot rolls out onto the crowded streets, smiling and waving. They have been spray-painted silver, wearing tunics covered in jewels. They make luxury items for the Capitol. They are one of the favourites, you can tell by the huge roar the crowd gives.

One by one, each of the Districts exits out into the streets, and then it's our turn. District 11 is just leaving when Cinna appears behind us, lighting our capes. 'Here we go then,' he says. I grit my teeth and wait for the burn, but there is nothing, it just feels a little bit tickly. He climbs up and lights our headdresses. Letting out a sigh of relief he says 'It works.' I stare at him as he says something to Katniss, touching her face, staring into her eyes. I feel jealousy inside me. I am not sure about Cinna, he wasn't sure if the fire would work, maybe he wasn't completely sure it was safe, and he's too close to Katniss.

He jumps off, and starts walking away, but then turns and shouts something at us as we roll into the street, but the music is too loud for us to hear. He makes a gesture and shouts again, but we still don't hear, although I think I got what he meant from the gesture.

'What's he saying?' Katniss asks. I turn to look at her and notice that her face is shining in the light of the fire, she has a little make-up on to bring out her eyes, and it works beautifully. As she looks at me her eyes are captivating and I almost forget to answer her question.

'I think he said for us to hold hands.' I grab her hand and we turn to look to Cinna for confirmation. He gives us a thumbs up, and then we are in the city.

I look side to side, at all the people, cheering and waving at us. Shouts of 'District Twelve' are all around us. I catch sight of me and Katniss on one of the large television screens. We look amazing, so memorable, our faces are not covered in make-up, so our features shine through and we still look like us.

I am glad that I have Katniss's hand to keep me steady, I am shaking quite badly. I can hear the crowd chanting something different now, our names, District Twelve rarely gets this kind of reception, and I feel slightly overwhelmed. Our stylists have definitely pulled off the unforgettable look.

Elation begins to rise up inside of me. Maybe we don't need Haymitch after all, we just need our stylists. With this big reaction, I'm sure someone out there will sponsor us. This brings me new hope, that we don't have to give up after all; we might have a chance.

As we reach the city circle Katniss starts to let go of my hand, but I hold on tighter. 'No don't let go of me,' I say, noticing the fire shining in her sweet grey eyes. 'Please. I might fall out of this thing.'

'OK' she says, and I feel relieved. I never want to let go. I wish we could go all the way to the arena holding hands. Somehow she makes me feel safer than if I stand alone.

The twelve chariots file into the City Circle and are arranged into the loop. Our chariot pulls right up to President Snow's mansion. The music ends, and the President stands before us.

He is a thin man with white hair, not fancy at all. He gives the official welcome from a balcony. The screen cuts away to the faces of the tributes through the speech, I notice myself looking rather pale and scared, so I look away to the ground, and avoid seeing the screens. The national anthem plays, and our chariot shoots forward and does a final lap of the circle, before disappearing into the Training Centre.

The doors shut and our prep teams are surrounding us, unintelligible. They are praising us, but I can't make our exactly what they are saying. Katniss smiles as she accepts the praise, and then she spots Cinna and smiles even more. Cinna and Portia approach hand in hand, smiling and shouting praise. They carefully take off our headdresses and capes and extinguish them.

I look down as Katniss lets go of my hand, and feel disappointed that we can't continue. I rub my hands together, then on my clothes, there is some sweat that I'm sure is mine.

'Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a bit shaky there,' I say.

'It didn't show, I'm sure no one noticed.'

'I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often, they suit you.' I gush. I smile at her, so she knows I'm not joking, but she doesn't smile back. She thinks for a second, and then, to my surprise, she stands up on tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, right on my bruise.

I can feel myself blushing, and have to look away from her quickly. Her lips felt soft against my skin. Maybe things will turn out the way I want afterall.


End file.
